


Sherlock Holmes Is A Lucky Man

by Miss_Voltage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Voltage/pseuds/Miss_Voltage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is frustrated, but when he confronts Sherlock, their relationship suddenly changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes Is A Lucky Man

**Author's Note:**

> I had been working on this for awhile and then kind of forgot about it when school became very hectic. I rediscovered it a few days ago and just had to finish it because I loved it. I won't lie, there is absolutely not even a hint of plot in this and its pure relationship and smut. Its my first John/Sherlock contribution to the fandom and I really hope it pleases you all.
> 
> I had some amazing inspiration from the lovely artist REAPERSUN (reapersun.tumblr.com)  
> These two art pieces they did gave me a lot of inspiration for the story, as well as the rest of their tumbr!  
> http://reapersun.tumblr.com/post/11311712866/time-to-go-to-bed-the-jewellers-hands-could-you  
> http://reapersun.tumblr.com/post/14397204402/ill-never-get-bored-of-good-mornings-with-you-3
> 
> Thank you to anyone who reads this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Every time. Every damn time it ended badly. Whether it was where he came from, where he was going, a random text, or anything relating to the man, his dates lost their patience. They really shouldn’t have had to have their patience tested. Perhaps they were jealous and wanted John’s attention focused entirely on them, but he couldn’t keep his mind invested in being social. Of course, they all said the same thing.

“You make a great boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes is a lucky man.”

He’d about had it with this last one. She screamed in his face that he was too dedicated to his freak of a flat mate, and John couldn’t take that, couldn’t tolerate someone who mocked Sherlock’s brilliance.

“Go on then!” She screamed as she sobbed gently. “Run back to your boyfriend.”

“I’m not his boyfriend!” John shouted, nearly startling her. He made a face of remorse, but knew she wouldn’t hear his apology. He gathered his coat and left, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stepped out into the cold London air. It was nearly ten blocks back to his flat, but the fresh air and steady walk gave him time to think, time that he really needed.

How could one approach Sherlock Holmes about anything?

Luckily Mrs. Hudson was not up to greet him as he entered the flat. She shouldn’t be up at this hour anyway. Still, he could hear the faint pluckings of violin strings coming from apartment B. Of course Sherlock was up. The man seemed to never sleep. But that was alright. He needed to hear this.

John walked into the apartment, glaring at his flat mate for a moment until he looked aside, setting his coat on the back of his chair, facing Sherlock who sat strumming his violin slowly. Their eyes met, and John felt the fire of an argument burst inside him, but quell slightly as he remembered what it was like to argue with a high-functioning sociopath. There was no winning.

Sherlock’s brows furrowed for a moment, then unclenching in understanding. He set his violin aside, clasping his fingers together as he studied John and thought.

“Another one broke up with you.”

“Yes. Another one.” John sighed, running his fingers through his own hair, resisting the urge to pull it in frustration.

“You don’t need her.” Sherlock observed.

“No, Sherlock, it’s you who doesn’t need anyone. I’d like to go out on a date once in a while!” John paced in the living room, hands clenched on his sides. “It always starts out just fine, but then they all get fed up.”

“And why is that?”

John looked at him in disbelief. How could Sherlock not know that while they were close friends, the man was at the center of nearly his every grievance?

“You don’t know? I thought you were the bloody genius consulting detective here. They all leave because of you! They accuse me of being with you!”

“You are with me, John.” Sherlock replied calmly.

John shook his head, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Not like that! They think we’re together! Boyfriends! Gay!” He shouted.

Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment, standing with his fingers peaked together as he stared at nothing in deep thought. “Would that really be so terrible, John?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean being gay is terrible.”

“No, of course not. You meant being with me is terrible.” Sherlock straightened up, looking at him assessingly.

“No… I didn’t… I just…”

“But you are with me, John.” Sherlock stepped forward, looking down at John almost contemptuously, challenging him. “You’re with me nearly every moment of every day.”

“We’re flat mates. Of course I’m around you a lot.”

“You follow me around on every case.” Sherlock stepped forward again, enough to make John feel uncomfortable and warrant him to take an equal step back.

“Because you want me there as a consulting physician.”

“You follow all of my orders seamlessly.” Another step forward.

“Because I’m your partner.” Another step back.

“Yes. You are my partner, John.” Sherlock said softly, stepping forward twice more and sending John stumbling back against the wall. John looked up at him, confusion and something that was almost fearful in his eyes. And yet, it wasn’t terror. It was fear of the truth.

“Would that be so terrible, John? Being my partner? Admitting that you’ve thought of us like this before?” He nearly murmured, leaning down and raising his hands to press against the wall on either side of John’s head.

John didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to respond because he actually knew his own answer to a question that he never thought he would be asked. A relationship with Sherlock would be both inconvenient and convenient at the same time, just as the man would have wanted it. And yet, nearly nothing would change between them if they crossed this carefully painted line between their personal lives. He looked up, only to find bright blue eyes riveted to his own. Sherlock was serious, and there was nothing that could get in the way of this moment.

The genius pressed forward first with his mouth, meeting John’s lips confidently, kissing his warm mouth until the man responded back. And when John responded, it was with a hunger neither of them realized he had possessed for this. Sherlock followed with his body, pressing as closely as he could to John, their mouths tilting and molding against one another’s, tongues creeping out and sliding together in a motion that was nothing short of erotic.

John moaned, having never known that this was exactly what he both wanted and needed. The women he’d been with had been nothing like this, and it was different from this not because they were women. This was different because it was Sherlock. This was fierce and powerful, threatening to consume him entirely and he was happy to let it. Sherlock’s lips were soft against his own, but rough in the way they stole their kisses. That tongue, it was so wicked, and every moment that it retreated back into Sherlock’s mouth had John trying to follow it back with his own.

Sherlock seemed just as desperate as he was, not making any noise but clearly enraptured by the kiss. John fisted his hands in the front of Sherlock’s shirt, holding him closely and Sherlock allowed it for a few brief minutes. Soon, their kissing became too hot and too passionate, too arousing for them each, and Sherlock took control.

He grabbed John by the wrists, taking them each and raising them over his head. Switching to hold them in a single hand, Sherlock pinned John’s wrists above him against the wall. John not only let him do it willingly, but groaned into the other man’s mouth. Sherlock slid his free hand against John’s neck, kissing him more eagerly, if that were even possible.

He knew John would give him total control over the situation and submit to his every move. It wasn’t because John was a submissive person – it was because John held a deep trust in him, and Sherlock would never do anything to violate that trust. He would always make sure that things worked out for the best for John. He knew he was irritating, arrogant, and needy, but John’s personality complimented his own brilliantly.

He could feel John’s pulse racing erratically in his wrists as he held them above his head. John wanted this, and he was getting off on it. That was good, more than good, because as easily as he could read people, Sherlock was very rarely wrong and this was not one of those times where he wanted to be wrong. He had thought about this before, about having John like this, and an honest part of him had wondered if the man would acquiesce.

There was no need to wonder anymore. He had John right under his grasp and it was almost too much power. He almost wanted to see just how far he could push John, but in this specific case, Sherlock would not abuse his power. There was nothing about this that was about taking pleasure. It was only about giving it, only about John.

John’s mouth was gorgeous, fitting against his in all the right ways, tasting exotic. The scent of him, of being so close to John, was intoxicating, and Sherlock shuddered. He could barely control himself from pushing this further, from ripping John’s stupid clothes off and taking him right there against the wall. John deserved better than that. He deserved a well and proper shag, a damn good one, at that.

He broke the kiss but his mouth never left John, trailing all across his neck, licking, nipping, kissing him everywhere. The sound of their breathing was wonderfully loud in the flat, and John couldn’t stop the noises that came from his mouth. He didn’t know he could make noises like this, that anyone could have him so desperate and wanting. He couldn’t pull his hands from Sherlock’s grip, didn’t want to, and being like this with someone, anyone, a man even, had never occurred to him.

Sherlock leaned in again, taking John’s lip and biting it gently, licking across it with his tongue before letting it go to slowly snap back into place. He stopped his motions and looked down at John, trying to calm himself, but his rapid breaths and the obvious lust in his eyes were things he could not hide.

“I need you to tell me you want this, John.”

John seemed to get more riled up, almost annoyed that Sherlock had stopped. “Why are you asking me that now when you already know the answer?” He nearly barked.

Sherlock let his hand drop from holding John’s, taking the man’s face between both of his palms and holding him close. “Because I need you to know that this is about you. I need you to know you’re not some one-night-stand or some experiment I’m working. It’s all for you, John.”

He sat there with his mouth hanging open, poised to reply, but there was nothing that could come out. He’d never seen Sherlock act like this, and somehow he’d known this whole time that Sherlock was incapable of acting like this with anyone else. This really was all for him, and the sentiment of that, the fact that Sherlock Holmes could feel something like this only for him, touched John so deeply that his heart leapt into his throat.

He would never have said he was in love with Sherlock Holmes. Still, John knew from the many months they had spent together that he loved this man and cared for him deeply. That love was that of a friend and colleague, but knowing that they could have this, that they could embark on a journey of physical intimacy, perhaps one day his love for this man would be something else. Until then, he cared deeply for Sherlock, and wanted whatever this was to happen.

John straightened up, looking into those brilliantly bright eyes, his gaze averting momentarily to the other man’s mouth. There were volumes he could have spoken then, but he knew Sherlock could already discern those things for himself.

“Sherlock, I want this. I want you.”

John walked backwards as Sherlock guided him, and he knew where he was being taken. Sherlock’s bedroom was the closest and most convenient. He felt almost special, being taken to this man’s bed, and wondered if anyone else had ever been in it. After all, Sherlock didn’t date, and while John didn’t exactly spend every minute of his day in the flat, he was fairly certain Sherlock didn’t have random women (or men?) over for quickies.

His knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, looking up at Sherlock. There was a sort of grin plastered across the man’s features, showing he was both pleased with the situation and trying to reassure John that this was a good idea. He watched as Sherlock’s long fingers caressed the buttons on his plum dress shirt, slowly opening each one until the garment hung loosely on his frame, undone, and he pushed it off. It wasn’t the first time John had seen Sherlock without a shirt on, but it was a lovely reminder that the slender, tall man was very strongly built. While John himself wasn’t exactly weak, it gave him a rush to think about grabbing onto Sherlock’s arms and feeling the strength in them as he laid under him.

Sherlock cocked his head back, looking down at John almost challengingly. John saw this as it was and accepted the challenge in turn. He pulled at the hem of his striped shirt and tugged it over his head, letting it land on the floor somewhere. He took it a step further, dipping his fingers into Sherlock’s waistline and pulling him a little closer as his fingers worked on his belt. He heard Sherlock hiss with arousal, and looked up at him with a very knowing grin. They both wanted this terribly.

He reached out, squeezing John’s shoulder as his trousers’ zipper was pulled down. Having focused completely on John, he hadn’t noticed just how aroused he was and he nearly yelped when John, that cheeky bastard, palmed him through his trousers, no undergarments underneath to deter him. John was still grinning at him, and he couldn’t just stand there anymore. Sherlock batted John’s hands away, slipping into his lap and kissing his mouth again, licking him, tasting him, and oh God, he wanted to taste John everywhere and damn it, he was going to do so.

John held him closely, kissing Sherlock like this could end at any second. He fell back on the bed and Sherlock came with him, never breaking the kiss for a moment. John groaned as Sherlock straddled him further and settled himself down over his hips. He could feel the other man’s hard on pressing into him from his opened slacks, and he was sure that Sherlock could feel his own pressing up against his ass. His fingers dug hard into Sherlock’s shoulders as he ground his hips down against John, telling him wordlessly that yes, he could feel his erection and it was a very lovely, provocative thing to feel.

He didn’t know what Sherlock intended to gain from this venture. He didn’t even know if Sherlock had really thought about doing this with him before now, but John hoped he had. John had entertained the idea a few times but just chalked it up to crazy notions and the need to get laid. He didn’t even know if Sherlock wanted to top or bottom, but John decided he didn’t care. It wasn’t about top or bottom or dominance or submission. It was about them, and he just wanted Sherlock.

Sherlock undulated his hips in a slow, hard rhythm, grinding against John. It was rough, and every press of his ass back against John’s erection or pressing his own against John’s pelvis, was entirely calculated, meant to bring them both pleasure but not enough – just enough so that they’d both need more. John’s hands traveled down from Sherlock’s shoulders and attached to his hips, pulling the man along with his thrusting. No one had teased and turned him on like this since he’d been a teenager, and John felt young and joyous again. Sherlock had a funny way of making him feel things.

He pulled his mouth away, pressing his forehead against John’s shoulder, breathing deeply. Sherlock nudged John’s ear, flicking the lobe of it with the tip of his tongue, and whispered to him. “Do you want me, John? Do you want to take me?” There was barely a moment before John gasped out a “yes” and was pulling Sherlock’s mouth back against his own. He was insatiable, wanted to kiss this man forever, but now there were other wants, too. John’s hands tugged at Sherlock’s pants, unable to get the past his hips in the position they were in.

Sherlock was shameless as he stood, quickly toeing off his shoes and socks and nearly ripping down his pants. He treated it like a necessity – and it was – that was of no importance. However, de-pants-ing John was a much more arduous task. He pulled off his socks and shoes, letting them drop to the floor, and leaned back over John. He kissed his navel, dipping his tongue into it momentarily and making John squirm as his hands found his fly. Sherlock took a moment to fondle John through his trousers, feeling a rush at the hardness he found there. John was in this state because of him and no one else. It was more than flattering, and made his stomach twist, feeling something he hadn’t before.

Every move as he was slowly divested of what was left of his clothing was not what John had expected. John had expected this all to go along with an air of clinical apathy, of just getting down to the necessary mechanics and following through. But Sherlock was attentive as he pulled down John’s trousers, leaving him in his boxer briefs momentarily. John sat up on his elbows to watch, licking his lips as Sherlock palmed his hand once again over his erection, teasing John. Yet, he wasn’t so much teasing as he was appreciating.

Sherlock leaned down and placed a series of unhurried kisses along his covered length and he smirked as he watched John try not to squirm at the pleasure that was not quite enough. John was so honest in his emotions and feelings, and he was loving every reaction the man gave him. He wanted to make John create all different sorts of sounds of pleasure. He wanted to make John smile. Mostly, he wanted to make John look at him and see no one else in the world. 

His fingers hooked in the sides of John’s boxer briefs’ waistband and slowly tugged down the offending material, John lifting his hips off the bed to help. Sherlock pulled the garment off and gave a quick glance over John’s body. He liked what he saw but he was much more interested in touching John. John backed fully onto the bed and Sherlock followed him, crawling over him and kissing him again on the neck. He wasn’t sure what to try first or what John really wanted.

"Sherlock..." John murmured against the other man's lips. He moaned, so fully invested in what they were doing that he could hardly give it another thought. His arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck, clawing at his back to pull him closer. Sherlock hissed at the slight pain, pressing his hips forward against John, their erections clashing and earning a moan from each of them.

John decided to be the bold one first. One of his hands slowly descended, travelling down the dips and curves of Sherlock's body until he met his hard length, his hand wrapping around it and giving it a good tug. Sherlock shuddered hard, his eyes closing as he took a moment to let the sensation wash over him. John felt a small victory of being able to reduce Sherlock to this, to not being able to think of anything but this momentarily.

Sherlock kissed John softly on the lips, moving his hips encouragingly against his hand. His hands wove into John's hair, smoothing against his scalp and tugging gently. "John," he began, unable to fully control the hitching in his breath from the wonderful ways John was moving his hand along his length. "I want you to take me. I want you, John."

John could hardly contain what those simple words did to him. He was filled with lust, and maybe something more. His brows furrowed and he stilled for a moment, looking both sheepish and forthcoming. "Do you... uh... have anything in here?" John assumed he didn't and was rather surprised when Sherlock leaned to the side, opening the nightstand and fishing through it.

John looked startled when Sherlock pulled out a bottle of lubricant and a condom. Sherlock read his surprise and dismissed it, sighing in almost annoyance as he set the condom aside, uncapping the bottle. "Oh really, John. Don't be so surprised. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually human and have needs."

John couldn't really argue that logic, though he hadn't really thought about it before. He took the open bottle as Sherlock handed it to him, and for a moment, he felt a bit of trepidation. They were really going to do this. This could potentially change the two of them forever. But they'd already come so far and damn, but he wanted this terribly bad. It was his first time doing this with a man, but he knew what he was doing fairly well. The mechanics of sex weren’t exactly quantum physics – and if they were, he’d simply have to look to Sherlock to lead them.

Sherlock watched John, saw that flicker of trepidation cross his features. He swallowed, assessing John again. He wouldn’t show it, but if John got too nervous and backed out now, he would be very disappointed. Sherlock couldn’t help but smirk as John nodded to his subconscious self, reassuring them both as he poured the lube over his fingers.

Sherlock reached up and gripped the headboard as John trailed his fingers below his cock, searching for the right spot, and he looked up again at Sherlock, needing to know that what he was about to do was okay. Sherlock gave a terse nod and relaxed his body. He gave a small grunt at the unusual feeling of John’s finger slowly sliding into him. It wasn’t exactly painful, just alien. He was not a virgin, and had, under the guise of experimentation, done things like this before, but what Sherlock was about to do with John was something he’d never fully invested in with anymore.

John twisted his finger slightly, letting the tight muscle around it become accustomed to the intrusion and relax. He watched Sherlock concentrate on breathing and relaxing. He slowly pulled his finger out to the first knuckle and pushed it back in, continually repeating the motion seamlessly. Sherlock didn’t make any noise, but his eyes shut as he focused on the sensation, something he was very much enjoying. The weird feeling had gone away quickly only to be replaced by a small pleasure that just felt right.

This was so easy and felt so right that John wondered why he had never given this serious consideration before. Maybe it was because Sherlock acted so detached from everything in the world. He clearly wasn’t devoid of emotions, but he liked to pretend he was a lone soldier. John knew that feeling all too well. That was one of the many reasons they complimented each other so well.

He took hold of Sherlock’s hip, steadying him as much as he reassured him as he pressed a second finger inside of him, meeting a much greater resistance this time. Sherlock did make a noise then, grunting lowly as the weird feeling came back momentarily. One finger was almost a welcome sensation, but two was another thing. It was confirmation that they were really doing this. John was stretching and preparing him for sex. They were going to have sex. Sherlock found it a little odd that these thoughts were comforting instead of alarming or strange. Perhaps it was because he trusted John like he’d never trusted anyone else in his life.

His body finally relaxed a bit, and as John began pulling his two fingers out and slowly pushing back in, Sherlock couldn’t keep himself silent. Even at this point in their foreplay, noises of lust were pulled from him just as those fingers were pulled from his body. He found his hips bucking back slightly onto the fingers, and the sensation was nothing short of lovely. Experimenting with his body before had not been like this, but then again, he hadn’t been with John.

John looked up at him eagerly, taking in every expression and sound and working to force Sherlock to create them again and again. If this was what Sherlock was like when he was merely being fingered, John could barely contain himself at the thought of how passionate the man above him might be when he finally got inside of him.

He curled his fingers, pressing against the spot that he knew would only bring his partner more pleasure, and Sherlock groaned, pressing his forehead into the headboard above them. Sherlock moved his hips to the rhythm of John’s curling fingers, taking entirely from this venture as a selfish, sexual creature. His length was solid, his body rigid and shuddering, and John was in complete control of him.

Sherlock reached down and grabbed John’s wrist roughly, halting his movements momentarily until the doctor’s fingers retreated. John looked a bit wary, but Sherlock shook his head, grinning. He leaned down, capturing John’s lips again, groaning softly as his bottom lip was bit and tugged. John was just as aroused as he was, and it was time to allow John to share in this pleasurable state they had created. 

He backed down onto John’s thighs a bit and reached over to grab the condom off the nightstand. Sherlock wrapped his other hand around John’s cock, stroking it slowly, watching the other man sigh, his arms holding the pillow behind him. He liked watching John, liked the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke, eagerly accepting it all. John really did want this, and Sherlock knew from the bottom of his heart, that this was something different for both of them. This was more than special.

He brought the condom up to his mouth, using his teeth to bite the edge of the packet and tear it open, tossing the wrapper to the floor. Sherlock set the prophylactic at the tip of John’s length and rolled it down, covering him entirely. He took the bottle of lube off the nightstand and coated John’s covered cock with a layer of it, working as quickly as he could. He didn’t want the lust to subside. His heart was pounding in his chest, eager for what they were about to do.

Sherlock settled himself over John’s hips and looked down at the man again. John gave him an assessing look, making sure that this was really what they both wanted. Sherlock slid his hand against John’s neck and held it there affectionately. John was the only person he would ever allow such intimate knowledge of himself to. There had been others, but intimacy was not part of those times. He would let John see all of him and hold nothing back.

Reaching beneath himself, he slowly began to push John’s length into his body. It was a foreign feeling he wasn’t entirely prepared for, but Sherlock managed. He huffed out a hard breath as the head of John’s cock pushed passed the tight ring of muscle in his ass, the stretching a little painful but not denting his eagerness one bit. Sherlock gripped the headboard tightly and held his breath, suddenly pushing all the way down onto John. They both moaned, a little shocked at the sudden movement and all the sensations that came with it. John’s nails raked down Sherlock’s thighs, gripping him tightly by the hips.

John could see that Sherlock’s body was slowly adjusting to the new intrusion, Sherlock’s eyes closed tightly. He couldn’t have that. He needed to see what was happening, what he was doing to this man. He reached up and palmed Sherlock’s cheek, watching as his eyelids opened to reveal those stunningly bright blue eyes of his, looking down straight into John’s eyes.

He was having quite a time dealing with the new sensations as well. Being inside Sherlock like this felt incredible, and it wasn’t because it had been awhile for him. It was just so good, so tight, so hot. But it also unleashed some feelings that John couldn’t put a name to just yet. He did his best to keep those emotions at bay until he could think on them later because now was about the physical, about what they were sharing with their entwined bodies.

Sherlock leaned down onto his elbows over John, shifting his body to get comfortable. Their gaze remained locked as he slowly undulated his hips, stirring the hard length within his body. Both of their breathing became a bit more shallow, and John reached up, holding onto Sherlock’s biceps, feeling the strength looming over him. Sherlock grinned and moved his hips harder this time, drawing out more of John’s dick and pressing onto it firmly. John bit his lip and moaned, pressing his own hips into the movement.

The time for experimenting with sensation was over and it was now that business started. If they didn’t get started with this, it might have ended too soon for either of them. Sherlock took up a moderate pace, bucking onto John’s length and John meeting his pace with a thrust here and there. Already their bodies began to slick with sweat, John’s nails dragging down Sherlock’s arms as they tried to gain purchase.

It was almost too much for Sherlock. He’d never bottomed like this to anyone, never had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of anal sex. He was glad for it, too, because in this moment he was sure that no one could ever compare to John Watson. The sensations of being filled repeatedly were as strange as they were entirely pleasurable and he couldn’t stop his body from fucking itself on John’s cock if he wanted to. He may have gone semi-soft from the initial intrusion, but he was by no means not aroused. 

This was the most aroused he had ever been in his life. No one had ever turned him on like John was doing right now. He watched the way John held onto him for dear life, overwhelmed by Sherlock riding him without abandon but still very much in the moment, adding his own thrusts every time his partner sank down onto him.

Sherlock only somewhat knew what he was doing by the way he rode John. He’d seen and read enough to have a good idea, but there was no match for experience. Still, it was working quite well for both of them. Apparently John had other ideas, though.

John grabbed his hips, looking into Sherlock’s eyes as he stilled his hips, sitting just slightly above John enough that they were still joined. Sherlock looked a bit wary and confused at the glimmer in John’s eyes, the downright evil and eager look he gave him for a split second. It suddenly made sense when John slammed his length into Sherlock, the taller man moaning loudly into John’s ear and dropping his head onto his shoulder. John made sure his hips stayed where he wanted them and held Sherlock tightly as he began to fuck him quick and hard.

Noises of coitus filled the air and the pair weren’t quiet in the apartment, the sounds of bodies thudding, John’s groans and Sherlock’s near constant moaning. They’d never seen each other in this state, and while it was quite lovely to behold, they could reflect on it later. Right now, there was nothing but the sex, the overheated bodies, the uninhibited sounds, the feelings of fucking and being filled. Sherlock could barely contain himself. No one had ever made him feel like this. It could have been because it was his first time bottoming or it could have been because it was John, but he was nearly overrun with passion and wanton need. The pleasure was too much, and he groaned deeply, sinking his teeth down into John’s shoulder, biting him as he gave into his baser needs. John moaned, digging his nails into the other’s hips as he continued to fuck him.

“Ahhng, Sherlock…” John groaned, barely able to contrive words in this state but he had to get his needs across by speaking before it was too late. “I’m close… Come… with me…” He just barely gasped out his needs, but Sherlock reacted as if he’d known what they needed all along.

“Mm… Yesss…” Sherlock hissed, lapping at the deep teeth marks he’d left in John’s shoulder. He sat up as much as he was able to, hips still lifted by John’s hands, and gripped the headboard once again with one hand. He and John watched each other intently as his other hand slipped down to his half-hard length, taking it in a tight grip and jerking it earnestly.

His head fell back with a long moan, the sensations surrounding and engulfing him. It was too much, and he was glad John was close because oh God, he was getting there. It was so good, and he could feel the orgasm building inside of him. It touched and pulled at his body in different ways than he had ever felt, to be climbing toward climax while being fucked. So close, so close, and John was fucking him harder now, just a little faster and his hand matched his mate’s pace and shit, shit, fuck! “John!” He nearly shouted, his body trembling roughly as the wave began to grow. “Fuck… me…” Shelock moaned, digging his nails into the headboard hard enough to scratch the paint.

Sherlock’s body tightened and spasmed, and as he came, he could only stare at John, whose eyes had clenched closed as he swore repeatedly, as if he were unable to deal with the contractions around his cock as his partner orgasmed. Sherlock let out a loud breath, nearly a sharp whine as he came onto John’s stomach. He held on minutely longer, John hilting into him hard and crying out as he came, muttering Sherlock’s name like a mantra. 

The second John’s hips touched back down to the bed, Sherlock’s entire body followed him, collapsing on the other man. They each took a few minutes to slow their breathing to something that wasn’t entirely heaving gasps. When he could finally swallow and control his breathing again, Sherlock moved to the side, laying on his stomach next to John as they continued to lay limping on the bed, recovering from what they each would have described as some of the best sex of their lives.

He gave a small moan of contentment as John turned onto his own stomach and laid nearly on top of him, his hand sliding up his back, threading his fingers into Sherlock’s curly damp hair. It was a sentiment he’d never felt before, this feeling to enjoy the afterglow and want to be part of John’s world. The very few times Sherlock had ever resorted to sex had him leaving the moment was over. This was different.

“Are you still hell bent on going out on dates all the time?” He murmured without so much as a smirk.

John rolled his eyes. “Was this all an elaborate ploy to keep me under your thumb?”

Sherlock thought for a bit and sighed. “Actually, there was no plan. I just went with whatever happened.” He grinned, looking over at John and scooting mere inches closer. “Glad I did, though.”

“Well, then.” John returned his grin. “I suppose I don’t need to go out and meet girls any longer. Besides, I’ve been told I’m a great boyfriend.”

 

THE END.


End file.
